The Night After
by Samairi
Summary: But why are you in my bed?" "You don't remember last night, do you Jimmy?" Wilson awakes to find House in his bed: House/Wilson.


House's snore was what woke Wilson.

Wilson blinked, then put a hand to his aching head. It felt like a herd of rhinos was stampeding through his skull: a hangover. Wilson groaned and tried to ignore the pain, to no avail. His eyes were pounding in rhythm with the rhinos' steps, forcing him to slowly rise from the bed in search of painkillers.

Wilson found a bottle of Advil in the bathroom, behind the back-up Vicodin. He swallowed four dry and made his way back to his bed. House was still asleep, so Wilson quietly slipped under the covers and attempted to sleep again.

Wait.

Wilson's eyes shot open; he was _in bed. _With _House. _

"Gah!" he cried, pushing himself as far away from House as he could without falling off the bed. At his yell, House awoke.

"Mbe kwiht," he mumbled incoherently. He yanked the covers back from Wilson, who had taken them with him when he moved, and pulled them over his head.

"House!" Wilson said in a fierce whisper, "what are you doing?"

House grunted and pulled the covers tighter over his head. Wilson frowned and switched on his bedside lamp.

"House, why are you in my bed?" he asked again, this time with a blush. House uncovered his head and scowled at him.

"Well, I _was _trying to sleep, but I see that's not going to happen anytime soon."

"But why are you in _my bed_?" Wilson pressed him. House slowly grinned.

"You don't remember last night, do you Jimmy?"

Wilson stared at him. "No…?" he answered warily. House's grin grew wider.

"You say an awful lot when you're drunk," he said casually. Wilson inwardly cursed; what had he told House? Or was the other man just pranking him? Yes—that must be it.

"Fine, don't tell me," Wilson said. "I'm not falling for this one, House."

"So, think I'm lying, do you? Maybe this will remind you."

With that, House crawled closer to Wilson and grabbed his arm. Wilson had a split second to think, "Oh shi—" before House's lips were on his.

Wilson automatically closed his eyes; as soon as he did so, memories of the night before came flooding in: the party at Cuddy's house, the bar afterwords, the alcohol, the kisses—oh, the kisses. Wilson remembered telling House he looked sexy when angry, and House reacting…differently than expected.

It only took a moment to regain his memory; then he was back home, in his bed, with his lips pressed to House's. He gasped, an action which House took immediate advantage of. Wilson felt a feeling well up in his chest that he had tried to ignore previously; this time, he wholly embraced it and kissed House back just as vehemently.

House took a final pass around Wilson's mouth before pulling away and looking at Wilson. Wilson stared back, amazed, before suddenly lunging for the other man. He wrapped his arms around House, clutching his back while desperately seeking his mouth. This kiss, this sober kiss, was miles beyond anything that happened previously; this kiss was fire and ice and lightning crashing and thunder booming and just simply House. House tangled his fingers in Wilson's hair as they deepened the kiss; he tugged Wilson towards him until he was nearly in House's lap. Wilson pressed himself as close as he could to House; years of denial were culminated in this single moment, this single perfect moment.

"Damn," House said as they broke apart. He rested his forehead against Wilson's. "You're even better sober." Wilson gave a breathless laugh and rolled over, effectively trapping House beneath him.

"Was that all I said?" Wilson asked. "That you were sexy when you were mad?"

House smirked and switched their positions, so Wilson was beneath him. "There also might have been a declaration of love in there," he said. "It's hard to remember."

Wilson smiled guiltily. "You caught me," he said. "I guess this means the rumors about us are true."

"What, that we're gay and in love?" House replied. "Those have been true for a long time, ever since I told that nurse that we were gay and in love."

Wilson gaped at him. "W-what? _You _started those rumors?"

"Had to have some way of getting you to realize you were in love with me. Took you long enough, too."

Wilson continued to gape at him. "But-but that means—"

"That I'm in love with you, too? Seems that way. Otherwise, I lose a bet, and I don't like losing."

Wilson stared at him. "You know, you could have saved me a lot of trouble if you had told me from the beginning."

"Now where's the fun in that?" House replied, leaning closer to Wilson. "And you know me, I do like fun."

House finished his sentence by closing the distance between the two and distracting Wilson from any further comments.

The next day, both House and Wilson called in sick. Wilson did sound particularly strained during the phone call to Cuddy, but she could have sworn she heard House chuckling in the background. Perhaps it was her imagination; those rumors couldn't be true, after all. If they were, she owed House fifty dollars, and she did want that new purse…

* * *

**A/N: **I'll just leave it to your imagination as to why Wilson was strained and why House was laughing. I'm sure you can come up with some reason. :D


End file.
